Offer Me That Deathless Death
by elvenviking
Summary: After walking for what felt like hours, he decided to go to the cemetery, knowing that his grave would be there. He didn't know why he wanted to see it. Maybe it was because it was one of the first things he had seen once he had clawed his way through the dirt and darkness. Or maybe it was because it was the proof that he had died. That he had killed himself.


Craig had gotten used to not feeling, even before he had risen up from the grave. If his hair hadn't been whipping around in every direction, he wouldn't have known that the wind was blowing. His gaze went from the sky to his mother and sister, who were walking to the right of his supervisor. His mother was invested in the conversation about what would happen if he went home, repeatedly assuring that it was safe. It was obviously bullshit.

His sister glanced back at him, gnawing at her bottom lip.

He could tell she was unsure how to feel. One of the rotters that had practically ended the world was her brother.

"I heard that South Park's Human Volunteer Force was still going strong." His supervisor said, pushing up her glasses with two fingers.

"Oh, well..." His mother faltered, giving a small, nervous laugh. "It uh, hasn't disbanded yet. But many of the members have left in the past couple of years."

From the memories that the drug they gave him allowed him to remember, he could recall the blue arm band that they wore when in uniform. The two girls he had killed wore them. Too bad that their guns had run out of bullets before his fingers and teeth went tearing through their flesh.

"But there aren't nearly any PDS Sufferers still roaming about."

"Doesn't really matter." Ruby entered the conversation. "Still gotta have people to shoot them in the head once they come walking about, don't we?"

"Ruby!" His mother yelled. "Your brother is standing right there!"

"He doesn't give a shit." Ruby looked to him, bored. "Right, bro?"

Craig shrugged. "Whatever."

"See?"

"Anyway," His supervisor brought the attention back to herself. "-when you get back to South Park, there should be a local attendant. They'll drop by the house, so don't be too alarmed when they do, okay?"

"Yeah, yes." His mother gave a small sigh, a bit of relief. "Thank you."

They all stopped, having reached the car. It was new, or at least different from the one Craig had grown up with. There were dents, and the windows were stained. But it was nice. Something besides white walls and gun wielding soldiers.

"It was wonderful having you with us, Craig." His supervisor wrapped her arms lightly around his shoulders, giving him a small pat on the back. Right before he pulled away, she hissed two words into his ear. "Be careful."

She pulled away, a large smile on her face. "You're free, Craig. Enjoy this freedom."

"You're so gonna get shot when we get back." Ruby said.

"Ruby!"

"He doesn't give a shit, like honestly." She looked to him.

"Like honestly." He said, looking to his mother. "He doesn't give a shit."

* * *

><p>The car ride home had been a long one. Any and all of the treatment centers were far away from South Park, being built in the middle of nowhere, as big as they could be, to take in all the 'PDS Sufferers' that they could shove into one place.<p>

"Whats the Human Volunteer Force?" He asked in an attempt to break the silence in the car.

He watched his mother grimace. "Oh...Its uh...A group of people who volunteered to fight against the uh...the PDS Sufferers."

"Who's in it?"

"A few people..."

Ruby leaned in between the seats.

"Clyde and Token were in it. Kyle, Stan, and Cartman are still in it."

"What about Kenny?"

"Dead. But his moms stuck on the thought that he might be alive still. She watches a lot of zombie movies, talking about how Kenny's gonna come back. She leaves her door unlocked, too. Hoping he'll be walking through it one day. Its really sad, but no one wants to tell her anything. That or everyone has already tried."

Craig bit his lip, unsure of what to say.

"How did he...die?"

"Had his head ripped off by a buncha rott-PDS Sufferers. Sorry."

"Ruby..." Their mother said, voice laced with warning.

"Honestly mom." Craig said, putting a hand on her arm. "I really don't care."

She let out a snort, but didn't say anything else.

"Did dad join the Force?"

"Yeah." Ruby said. "But he didn't die from any rotters. Shot himself straight in the head on a supply mission. Fucking coward couldn't even handle getting food to feed people."

"Don't talk about your father like that. He w-"

"He was a good man?" Ruby mocked, before bursting out into laughter. "Oh, screw that shit! He fucking left us like the selfish piss he is, and you still call him a good man?"

Craig did nothing, said nothing, as his mother and sister fought. He leaned his head against the window, their shouts drowning out as he watched trees and fields whip by, hopefully to never be seen again.

He had spent five years at the treatment center. Five years of his life was wasted away there, everyday being exactly the same. Looking at all the white walls, the white clothes, the pale, white faces of the other rotters. The only color difference he had seen were the soldiers, all of them decked out in black, holding their guns tightly to their chest.

Their eyes had been unforgiving.

But he didn't want forgiveness.

He could remember some of the other patients going rabid, having taken a drug known as Blue Oblivion, or the medicine wearing off, or not having any effect. He could remember their black blood splattering against the white walls and floors as gunshots echoed through the halls. He could remember watching as their body was dragged out, the blood mopped up. Not a trace of them to signify they had ever existed.

Just like that they were erased.

The world would never be able to forget or forgive The Rising. Sending rotters back to their homes was a stupid move played by the doctors who treated them.

Incredibly stupid.

"What do you want for dinner, hun?"

He blinked twice, before looking at his mother. They were just pulling into the driveway of their home, maybe a bit too quickly. The garage door opened, and his mother wheeled inside as fast as she could.

"Doesn't matter." Ruby said, grabbing onto the seats for leverage. In a split second, she was out of the car, pressing a button on the wall to send the garage door down.

"What about you?" His mother smiled at him.

"I don't eat." He said, shrugging. "My insides are pretty decrepit."

"That's...that's okay." Instead of getting out the car like he thought she would, his mother sighed, leaning her head back against the seat.

"We're gonna make this work." She whispered, voice slightly cracking. "We're gonna make this work real good."

"Sure, mom."

He watched as her bottom lip trembled. "You and me. We're gonna do this."

Craig sighed, before giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"You and me, Craig."

"You and me, mom."

* * *

><p>After a few hours of silence at home, spending time going through all of his old things, the doorbell had rang. His mother had shouted for Ruby to take Craig to the attic, just in case. Instead of actually taking Craig to the attic, they waited inside Ruby's room, listening through the floorboards.<p>

"Its okay!" Their mother had shouted a few minutes later, relief evident in her voice. "Its just Sharon!"

"Just Sharon..." Ruby mocked, scoffing. "Go downstairs, Sharon's all accepting and shit."

"All accepting?"

"She doesn't give a shit that you're a rotter."

"Oh."

After standing from Ruby's bed and stretching his arms out behind him, he went downstairs. He was greeted by the sight of his mom and Sharon sitting at their kitchen table, a black case and multiple pamphlets splayed across the table.

"Craig, you remember Sharon, right?"

"Mom, really, its only been five years. I'm not stupid." He rolled his eyes, pulling out a chair to sit down. "Hey, Sharon."

"Hey, Craig. We were just talking about giving you your medicine. Have you taken it today?"

"No."

As soon as the word came out of his mouth, Sharon reached for the black case. It was almost frantic. But he couldn't be surprised. A rotter off their medicine for too long went back to their 'untreated state'. Not taking your medicine was a one way ticked back to the treatment center. Except you don't come back after that.

"Let me show you how to administer the medicine." Sharon stood from her chair, going around to stand behind Craig's. She waved his mom over. "So you just clip the medicine into this, wait for the click and..." He felt a small pressure where the medicine went into the small hole in his back. "Press down here..."

A sharp pain ran down his spine, signifying she had pulled the trigger.

"And done. You might want to get Ruby to help you some days. The medicine triggers memories, as its rebuilding connections in his memory from, well, you know... It can cause convulsions, as the memories can be extremely vivid."

"Can I go now?" Craig asked, turning in his chair to look at his mother and Sharon.

His mother looked to Sharon, who nodded.

"Sure. Go ahead. Tell Ruby to be down for dinner in an hour, will you?"

"Yeah."

Sharon watched as he ran up the stairs, his walking a bit hobbled. "There's something else you'll need to know." She pulled a taser from the black case, holding it up in front of Laura. "You're going to need this."

"Why?"

"There's this drug going around called Blue Oblivion. It sends PDS Sufferers back to their untreated state. Its incredibly dangerous. I know that Craig...well he...had some drug problems before he died. If you see any blue pills around, you'll want to call me immediately. And if you see Craig taking the blue pills, give him a zap with this." She pressed a button on the bottom, blue sparks shooting out of the top.

"Craig wouldn't...He wouldn't..." Laura bit her lip, before letting out a small sigh. "Thank you, Sharon."

Sharon slipped the taser back into the case, before handing it to Sharon.

"Just one more thing, before I go. Craig really shouldn't be going outside. And if he does, always make sure he's wearing his mousse and makeup. It would be a bloodbath if he didn't."

* * *

><p>He had snuck out right when the clock had hit midnight, knowing that both his mom and sister had retired early, the car ride draining them both. He had grabbed the keys, going out through the back door.<p>

At first, he hadn't a clue where he was going. All he wanted to do was get out of the house, get a breath of fresh air that he couldn't even take. If he could still feel, he would have felt the cold wind slapping sharply against his face. After walking for what felt like hours, he decided to go to the cemetery, knowing that his grave would be there.

He didn't know why he wanted to see it.

Maybe it was because it was one of the first things he had seen once he had clawed his way through the dirt and darkness. Or maybe it was because it was the proof that he had died.

That he had killed himself.

His grave was surrounded by yellow police tape, dirt poorly put back in place. He kicked at it, not knowing what else to do.

"Five years." He said, flicking his finger against the yellow police tape that hung loosely against thin poles stuck in the ground. "Because you offed yourself. Maybe if you had waited a few more years you could have done something else with your pathetic life." He gave a bitter laugh. "But you were too selfish. God, you're a fucking idiot."

With a sigh, he sat down on the grave, shoving his hands into his pockets. He stared out into the darkness of the cemetery, picking out graves that weren't quite as shitty as the others.

"You know, its not polite to sit on people's graves. Disturbs the dead."

Craig scoffed, not bothering to look behind him. "The dead were already disturbed in 2009, or was your head shoved too far up your ass for you to notice, Marsh?"

There was a second of silence. "Wait...Craig?"

"No, Morgan Freeman."

"Still as much as a pissfuck as you were before you died, I see."

Stan walked to stand in front of the grave. Craig didn't know what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been for Stan to look practically the same as he had before. His hair was a bit shorter, his skin a bit tanner, but overall, not much had changed.

He could say the same for himself. Being a rotter sometimes did have its perks, and being forever 19 was certainly one of them.

"Dude." Stan said.

"Dude." Craig replied.

"Wheres your makeup?"

"My makeup?"

"You know, that shit you guys put on your faces."

"Oh." Craig hadn't bothered to put it on before he'd left the house. He had already taken it off after he had gotten home, and didn't see the point in having to take it off a second time. "The cover-up mousse."

"Yeah that." Stan's head tilted to the side. "Your eyes are back to normal. Not the right shade, though."

"Contacts."

"Ah, I see."

Not sure what else to say, Craig cleared his throat. "So uh, heard you were apart of that Human Volunteer Force thing. Hows that going for you, seeing as though all the rotters are either locked away or coming home new as can be?"

"There are still others." Stan replied, shrugging. "Cartman was almost taken out by one a couple days ago."

"How long did he cry?"

"A couple hours."

Craig gave a small laugh, before he asked the question that had been on his mind since he had gotten home."So...how're Clyde, Token, and Tweek?"

Stan shrugged again. "Clyde moved away last year. Token went with him. Apparently they were dating." Craig laughed at that, knowing that it was bound to happen sooner or later. "And uh, Tweek. He's uh. He's..."

"Dead."

"Yeah."

"Shoulda guessed."

"I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault."

Stan swallowed. "Yeah. He got caught with some rotte-PDS-"

"Dude." Craig said, cutting him off with a small shake of his head. "Do you honestly think I give a shit?"

Stan laughed, albeit nervously. "Right...He got caught up with some rotters."

Craig nodded, but he could tell that wasn't the truth. Maybe if he tried hard enough he could convince himself that was what really happened.

"Well uh, I gotta go." Stan said, pulling his coat tighter around him after taking a quick glance at his watch "It was nice seeing you again, Craig."

Craig rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"Really, dude." Stan said, his voice going serious. "Really."

Craig watched as Stan turned and walked off, his footsteps crunching against the cold grass.


End file.
